Oh, to wake once again with that old joy,
That consciousness of angels hovering near!
Oh, for a shaft of light that would destroy
This dark despondency, this nameless fear!
My radiant thought had never given form
Or substance to those two unbidden things;
Yet in that night of devastating storm,
Bat-like they came on black and brooding wings.

My mind has lost its optimistic course
And sunk in quicksands of despair and gloom,
Nor have my wildest prayers the drawing force
To lift me back to sunlight and to bloom.
Oh, Everlasting Arms, reach out, reach out,
Before I sink in madness, or in doubt!

Sonnets of sorrow and triumph. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
New York: George H. Doran, 1918.

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